| One side of the street, is Malone’s Funeral Home and the
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| Other side’s a library, try very hard to picture this shit
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| Walk through where I live at Where parents are embarassed to tell you they raise they kids at You’ll need some half and half over 8 bar you can get that
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| Fuck with Little Rodney and you’ll get all of your ribs cracked
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| In a location where slanging crack rock is not seen as a fuckin’recreation but
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| a vocation
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| And the cellars, and the smoke is a ???
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| Got one eye on Minneapolis P.T. |
| they both racin'
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| 3 for 50 is the supply and demand, and the
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| Twin Cities’American heartland, and they
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| Been busy, masterminds tearing apart plans
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| And hoop dreamers ballin’with blisters on they hands
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| With chains danglin’from the rims
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| Pain strangles 'em from within
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| Till’the belt around the arm makes the veins stand at attention
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| I try to block it out with a bed sheet the moonlight’s as a curtain
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| 'Cause I’m not comforted by red and blue lights when I’m hurtin'
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| Mommy loves you yeah I knew but I wasn’t certain
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| 'Cause the lenses through which she views life wasn’t workin'
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| As a boy she told me wait till’your father to come home
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| I’m 24 still waitin’for my father to come home
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| And some parents only touch they children when a whips brought
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| That’s why bad kids do bad shit, just so they could caught
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| And get touched, this growing up shit’s rough
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| That’s a big part of why were so mixed up Shit we don’t have Bar Mitzvah’s
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| We become men the first time our father hits us And we don’t open gifts up Sister Regina from across the street is beautiful
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| But for 50 bucks ain’t nothing she won’t do to you
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| Used to be premium pussy now she used up For that same 50 bucks she got to do some new stuff
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| Whatever it takes for you to take the dollars out
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| If you don’t intervene then there’s a day she’ll turn her daughter out
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| Speaking of kids I’m fixing lunch for my first born
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| I had the windows wide open 'cause the weather’s warm
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| That’s when the greatest hits of Donnie Hathaway
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| Got interrupted by a drive-by shooting half a block away
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| Vaheem was in the window, he didn’t get hit though
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| All please due to Allah
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| I see all this from the desk that I write my rhymes from
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| Pen starts to scribble on it’s own my minds numb
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| But you can call me modern urban Norman Rockwell
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| I paint a picture of the spot well
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| I see all this from the desk that I write my rhymes from
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| Pen starts to scribble on it’s own my minds numb
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| But you can call me modern urban Norman Rockwell
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| I paint a picture of the spot well
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| I see all this from the desk that I write my rhymes from
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| Pen starts to scribble on it’s own my minds numb
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| But you can call me modern urban Norman Rockwell
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| I paint a picture of the spot… well |